


Adult Assembly Required

by scribblscrabbl



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Crack, Game Night, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-27
Updated: 2013-11-27
Packaged: 2018-01-02 19:37:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,143
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1060766
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scribblscrabbl/pseuds/scribblscrabbl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tony decides there's no better way to spend their night off from saving the world than playing Twister.</p><p>Thor shows off his hidden talents.</p><p>Clint and Natasha get a little competitive.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Adult Assembly Required

**Author's Note:**

> Originally a fill for [this brilliant prompt](http://avengerkink.livejournal.com/17613.html?thread=40595661#t40595661). Couldn't help sneaking in a teensy bit of Tony/Steve.

He finds the game on the dusty top shelf of a storage unit in the far back corner of his parking garage, crammed in with the pieces of a prototype that’s seen better days. They clank and clatter to the ground in a miserable heap when he yanks out the coveted box. Way better days. He figures he should get the space cleaned up before Pepper sees and yells at him again for having some tragic flaw or other, but fortunately he has more pressing issues to attend to at the moment.

“I found it!” He crows victoriously and drops the box onto the coffee table, coughing a little when it sends up a sizeable cloud of dust.

“Found what?” Clint mumbles without looking away from the TV like nothing could tear him away from Khloé Kardashian’s baby daddy drama.

“The best game ever invented, that’s what. I mean, look at the cover. These kids are having the time of their lives.”

Bruce peers at it over his shoulder.

“Twister? I think I’ll sit this one out. The big guy gets competitive over this kind of thing.” 

“Is that mockery I hear? Afraid of a little heat? ‘Cause I’ll bring it.”

“What’s all the ruckus about?” Steve walks over with a freshly toasted strawberry Pop Tart, probably his bajillionth (conservative estimate) today. Tony makes sure to keep them stocked in the pantry, along with Swedish Fish, Steve’s second favorite food. He’s pretty sure there’s a cure for diabetes stashed somewhere in the guy’s genes, but he keeps it to himself. Mainly he finds it endearing that Steve’s developed the diet of a four-year-old, but he keeps that to himself too.

“Stark’s being a dweeb.” Natasha’s curled up on the couch next to Clint, rolling her eyes with flair.

“Watch your language.” Tony points with a menacing finger before whipping off the box cover to display the glorious contents underneath.

He can’t actually remember who bought this particular one and for which occasion. Birthdays and holidays when he was a kid never really involved this kind of thing, entertainment for entertainment’s sake. His Twister cherry had been popped in college by some drunken bet that involved activities Milton Bradley would not have condoned. But he likes to think it could’ve been a family tradition, one of those memories people talk about that define their childhood.

“What amusing contraption have you invented now, Stark?” Thor’s voice booms behind him and he jumps a little. He’s beginning to notice that it’s Steve, or Bruce, or Clint, or Natasha, or Jarvis, but it’s never Tony. Sure, he badmouths the guy’s brother every chance he gets but he figures, in the grand scheme of things, Loki’s a mass murderer and he’s a pretty decent fella who pays his taxes on time.

“It’s a game of physical prowess that requires—not that kind of game, hey, put that down.” He bats Thor’s arm away before Mjölnir comes flying through the walls. “Twister does not involve fighting, or maiming, or smashing of any kind.” He stares at Thor, and then at Bruce.

“I told you, I’m sitting this one out.”

Thor looks completely lost.

“Oh, come on. We can have a little fun without ensuing death or mayhem. Right? Am I right?”

Life was so much easier when he didn’t have live-in friends.

“I suppose I could take a shot at it.” Steve looks reluctantly determined, like he always does when he’s just too nice to say no, but Tony beams.

“You know, I almost forgot you pre-date everything fun that was ever invented. You’re gonna love this. Bruce, make yourself useful and spin the spinny thing.”

He’s smiling up until the moment Steve beats him on left foot red and the rest of the team is suddenly all about it, the traitors.

“I will try my hand at this sport you call Twister,” Thor declares after Tony hobbles off the mat.

“Are we sure they can both fit on that thing?” Natasha raises her eyebrows.

This would probably be the time for him to question the age-appropriateness of the whole endeavor. Instead, he goes about dividing them up into Team USA and Team Captain Hammer.

Bruce looks a little concerned. “Left hand yellow.”

“These four circles appear identical. Am I to distinguish them in some way?”

Steve plops his hand down. “Just pick one.”

“In my world, the champion of such games earns the favor of a lovely maiden.”

Clint grins. “I don’t know about a maiden but Natasha can—ow! I’m kidding! Kidding!” 

The second round goes on for a good ten minutes. Turns out gods are more flexible than they look and Tony’s grudgingly impressed.

“Right foot red!” Bruce abandoned the spinny thing nine minutes ago when he realized there was more enjoyment to be had out of calling plays that led to highly embarrassing situations. 

“You gotta be kidding me.” Steve inches his fingers sideways, trying his darndest to avoid faceplanting in Thor’s crotch, and Tony’s about to revoke Bruce’s play-calling privileges when Steve rolls off the mat and onto his back in defeat.

“Tony, next time you try to talk me into doing something, I will just say no,” Steve announces, sounding remarkably like one of those ad campaigns to keep kids off drugs.

“It’s okay, you can admit my good looks and charm make you weak.”

“I like this game. It does not call for the traditional spear or sword, but I will persuade my people of its virtues.”

Tony pictures a gaggle of Norse gods playing Twister and almost loses it. He has _got_ to remember to teach Thor the Macarena. 

Clint walks up to the mat, flexing his hands without a word, and beats Thor in under three minutes.

“Doesn’t being an ex-acrobat extraordinaire give you an unfair advantage in this game?”

“Thor being a god gives him an unfair advantage in life, but I don’t hear you raising any objections to that.”

“Well played.”

Natasha takes her turn without a word—must be an assassin thing—but not before going through a series of stretches that looks like a three-step guide to decapitating the enemy. Clint looks unfazed. Everyone else takes a step back and notes the nearest exit.

Tony can’t really say what happens next, only that whatever it is, it’s not what the rest of them have been playing, let alone what’s advertised on the box.

There’s a collective gasp when Clint’s arm wobbles. 

“This has more drama than an episode of Downton Abbey.”

Steve shushes him loudly.

And right when it dawns on him to get this on video, Clint groans and collapses. 

“Damn it, would’ve really bumped up the hits on my Youtube account,” he mutters darkly.

Natasha gets up, cool as a cucumber. “And that, gentlemen, is how you play Twister.”

No one’s inclined to argue.


End file.
